Stolen Moments of Solitude
by Maelynne Naveen
Summary: Ever since a certain shinigami came into his life, Ichigo's moments of peace and quiet are limited.  But does he really mind as much as he claims?  IchixRuki oneshot.


Just a short drabble I wrote – I was doodling Ichigo and Rukia the other day and for some reason I put them in their pajamas – maybe because I adore the fact that she came back to live with him. I love the intimacy that whole situation implies. And since I'm much better at writing than drawing, this story came about and the sketch has been… scrapped, lol.

Set after Rukia moves back in with Ichigo following the Soul Society Arc, but before the Arrancar Arc.

_I do not own Bleach or any of the characters thereof. If I did it would rapidly deteriorate into a shoujo and that would make a great many people irritated, including my dear husband. :D _

* * *

**Stolen Moments of Solitude**

I was perfectly comfortable lying on my bed, for once able to focus quietly on my homework as the "women" of the house were out shopping. With Outou-san busy at the clinic, the house was mine and although it may not be typical for someone my age to do homework in this situation, I'm not exactly typical for someone my age, so there I was. In this house I usually fought for every scrap of solitude that I had and wasn't about to waste this gift by inviting my noisy friends over or some stereotypical crap like that.

It was quiet and peaceful… but of course it wasn't to last.

I knew they were back even before they opened the front door; with the window propped slightly open to let in the early autumn air, I was able to pick up the sound of their chatter from a few yards away.

The situation really was somewhat ironic – you'd think I would be glad for Rukia to take my little sisters out of my hair for awhile – but in truth it was the other way around. Not that I minded her company, it was just nice to actually have some space once in awhile. Which isn't exactly easy when you have a girl who used to live in your closet now living in the bedroom next to you.

Let's just say I'd never gotten out of the habit of changing clothes in the bathroom.

At precisely that moment an energetic Rukia burst through my _closed_ bedroom door, clearly demonstrating exactly why I continued to change in the bathroom. Don't they have any concept of personal space in that damn Soul Society? I guess after living in this room for so many months had given her a familiarity with the space that hadn't disappeared during her short absence.

"Ichigo look! I have my own pajamas!"

She beamed as though someone had given her the keys to a brand new car.

I glanced over and gave a non-committal "huh."

Apparently that failed to satisfy the petite shinigami's need for attention, at which point a dirty towel from the floor sailed through the air. _Shoulda seen that one coming_, I thought as the cold, wet fabric smacked my head.

"Dammit, Rukia…" I growled, throwing the smelly item back on the floor.

As I looked over at her, she smirked and crossed her arms over her chest, happy to have gained my full attention.

The heat deflated from my irritation as I finally took in her appearance, forgetting what I was even yelling about. To my horror, I felt my face grow red. "…um, that was cold." I finished lamely as I quickly diverted my attention back to the book.

Eyes narrowed into an annoyed glare, "Your fault for leaving nasty wet towels lying around."

I heard the door click shut behind her and my head dropped onto my textbook. _Idiot_, I scolded. Running a hand through my hair, I tried to get the mental image of her out of my head. It was completely unsuccessful.

They were a far cry from Yuzu's innocent plaid pajamas, that's for sure. The pants had looked soft and silky, a nice purple-y color, with the drawstring of the waist sitting just below her bellybutton… I know that because the form-fitting shirt that went with them landed just _above_ her bellybutton. It wasn't a lot of skin, maybe just an inch or two around her middle, but it was more than she'd ever shown before. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen her stomach before.

_And why would you?_ the logical side of my brain reminded me.

_Just because you've pictured it so many times?_ the perverted side whispered tauntingly.

"Ah, shut the hell up!"

I realized I probably looked crazy, alone in my room yelling to nobody but myself.

Groaning I went back to my math problems, all concentration hopelessly lost.

- - - - - - - -

After another fruitless hour I gave up and wandered downstairs for a snack. Karen and Yuzu's lights were off but I could hear the television softly humming from the living room.

Half-heartedly I rummaged around in the freezer – it seemed like ever since Rukia had started helping with the shopping we always had strawberry ice-cream on hand. Must be her favorite, or something.

Heading into the other room, I found Rukia on the couch, watching a martial arts movie that was popular a few years back. Fitting.

I handed her a bowl of ice-cream as a kind of peace offering, which she accepted with a soft "thanks."

Nodding, I settled on to the couch next to her. She seemed captivated by the story, eyes riveted on the screen, not even looking at her ice-cream while she ate it. I figured I'd better wait until a commercial to say anything else – no sense making her even madder.

While an obnoxious ad for chewing gum blared on, I glanced over at her. I shifted uncomfortably, "Rukia…" she glanced up in my direction and I exhaled, gathering all my courage, "They look pretty good on you."

She smiled a devious smile, midnight eyes sparkling and filled with many years of experience, "I know."

Nothing more was said and we returned to the movie in companionable silence, but somehow I couldn't help but feel slightly unnerved.

I think I'm in big, big trouble.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o


End file.
